


Non-Stop

by Lil_Lycanthropy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Insomnia, John Laurens is a nurse, M/M, Trans Alex, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 09:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10357785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Lycanthropy/pseuds/Lil_Lycanthropy
Summary: After several days without sleep, Alex is running out of options. Luckily his boyfriend is actually sensible and knows how to deal with Alex's shit.





	

It had been nearly seventy-nine hours since Hamilton had last rested, and he still couldn’t _sleep_.

He had tried everything - counting sheep, watching boring TV, listening to relaxing music - hell, even _exercising_ in an attempt to tire himself out. His body wasn’t the problem, he decided while lying on his back, sweat breaking out on his forehead from the different sets of workouts he had tried. If it was up to his physical body, Alex would be passed out on the floor right now. People aren’t meant to survive on so little sleep, his body reminded him every minute he had been awake past the 36-hour mark.

Unfortunately, Alexander’s mind just would not shut the fuck up.

He was stuck in one of his cycles, as he liked to call it. He would become fixated on an idea or thought, and just think about it for hours. It wasn’t usually ever something important; right now, he was focusing on his lack of sleep.

Alex was so concentrated on thinking about how to fall asleep he didn’t notice John barreling through the door to their apartment until the latter began complaining loudly about his shift at the hospital - something about numerous patients throwing up on him. After giving a noncommittal grunt, he continued staring blankly at the ceiling. _God_ , he was just so _tired_.  

“Hey, you listening at all to anything I’m saying?” John marched over to the couch, where Alex seemed, for lack of better words, high as a fucking kite.

Shrugging off his bag, John made his way over to his boyfriend’s side. “Dude, you look like you just got hit by a truck. You alright?”

Alexander slowly shifted his gaze over to Laurens, who had placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. Sinking back into the couch, he mumbled, “Yeah, m’fine. Can’t sleep.”

The words came out somewhat slurred from exhaustion, and John frowned in distaste when he noticed just how dark the circles under Hamilton’s eyes were.

“Okay, just let me shower and then we can go to bed.”  


John made his way over to the bathroom and Alex heard the water start behind the door. Any other time, he might’ve been tempted to join, but he was just not feeling up for even moving at this point. A headache had formed sometime around the 23-hour mark, and ever since John came home and broken the tranquil atmosphere, its pounding increased tenfold until it was throbbing mercilessly at his temples. Groaning at the pain, Alex curled back up into the couch and grit his teeth against it. It wouldn’t be the first time he had gotten a migraine due to lack of sleep, but they were not ever pleasant, nor something he could just get used to.

When John finally re-entered the living room, he noticed Hamilton in a tightly curled ball on the couch with the heels of his hand embedded into his forehead.

“What’s wrong?” John asked Alexander worriedly, who didn’t respond. Leaning beside the couch with his hair in a towel, John moved Alex’s hand and pressed his own against the younger’s forehead. It was slightly cold, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Hamilton shivered at the contact, eyes squeezed shut. His whole body just screamed _exhaustion_. “Let’s get you to bed, Hammy,” John said, using the nickname Alex hated, trying to elicit a reaction out of him. But Alex was too far gone to notice.

The prospect of having to carry a likely deadweight twenty-five year old to bed was less than appealing to John Laurens after having just spent the last eighteen hours dealing with sick people, but he would make the exception for Alexander. He always did, in the end. Alex was always worth it.

“Up you get,” John murmured, wrapping one of Hamilton’s arm around his shoulder.

 “No, leave me alone,” Alex groaned, shuffling forward despite his protests and leaning heavily into John for support.

Ignoring his complaints, John continued dragging Hamilton toward the bedroom. Flopping him unceremoniously back into bed, John threw a pair of sweatpants in Alex’s direction. “Change into those; they’re far more comfortable than jeans. Oh, and take off your shirt - it’s drenched. Binder, too.” He left the room, presumably to dry his hair or some shit. Alex was too tired to care.

Alex fumbled with his belt buckle, more on autopilot than anything else. The jeans were dropped to the floor, followed quickly by his more-than-slightly disgusting t-shirt. He left his binder on, too tired to bother struggling with it. 

John re-entered the room as soon as the sweatpants were on, holding a steaming cup of... something.

“Drink up, buttercup,” he said with a mischievous grin.

Hamilton glanced down at what appeared to be tea, and took a quick swig. He noticed the flavour was a bit off, and scowled at John. “What the hell is in this? You trying to roofie me?”

John laughed slightly before motioning him to finish drinking it. “Relax, dude. It’s just some liquid Nyquil. Figured you’d be too out of it to notice anything. Anyway, you need to sleep. How long have you been up?”  


Alex continued frowning, but finished up the liquid with a gulp. “None of your damn business,” he said, handing John the mug.

After putting it in the kitchen sink, John returned to find Alex lying down on the bed in a somewhat uncomfortable-looking position, with his neck bent sideways. However, he still had his binder on.

“Alex,” John sighed. “You gotta take your binder off. How long have you been wearing it? Come on, take it off.”

“Fine as is,” Alex grumbled, crossing his arms loosely over his chest.

John exhaled, getting slightly frustrated with Alex’s antics. “You’re safe here, Alex. Please, just take it off. For me?”

Alex curled in on himself at those words, but after a moment, sat upwards and put his arms slightly over his head. John took the cue and quickly got to work, shimmying the tight piece of clothing off and throwing on an oversized hoodie.

“Better?” he asked once he was done.

“Mm-hmm,” Alex mumbled, already appearing to be falling asleep with his eyelids drifting shut.

John clambered into bed, wrapping his arms around Alex. “We gotta work on these unhealthy habits of yours, _conejo_ ,” he muttered, planting a kiss Alex’s forehead. 

“Sorry,” he whispered back, clutching lightly at John’s shirt.

John continued soothing motions with his hands, running them through his hair or tracing shapes into his back. Eventually, his breathing evened out, and Alex was finally, blessedly, at long last, after almost eighty hours, asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, fun fact, 'conejo' translates to meaning 'rabbit', but is also a pet name used for someone who is pretty fast-paced. I can imagine John using it a lot for Alex, seeing as it's literal fucking Alexander Hamilton, who is known for being "non-stop". Anyway, you can follow me on Tumblr @lil-lycanthropy


End file.
